


Ghosts of the Past

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-22
Updated: 2005-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes and Faith get a second chance to do things right.Notes: I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent.  It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred.  Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Pale, slim fingers spanned the smooth wood of the door. She took a small step inside the doorway, quietly observing the man at the desk. "You risked your life to save mine."

He looked up, startled. It took a few seconds for him to recover his composure, but eventually he leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. "It's been three years. Those are the only words you could think of to say to me?"

She refused to be sidetracked. "You hated me, but you took a chance on me. I've had three years to think about what I did, Wes, and that was the thought that never left me. Why'd you do it?"

Wesley sighed. "Faith, it wasn't a matter of choice. Angel trusted you, felt you had a chance at redemption. Despite my personal feelings on the matter, I trusted Angel implicitly. If he thought you were worth the risk, I did too."

Faith sat down in the chair in front of him. She cocked her head inquisitively. "I wasn't. Just to let you know."

Wesley gave her a half-smile. "Surely you don't believe that," he chided her gently. "Look how far you've come in the past three years. Had we not taken the risk, you'd very likely be dead by now."

"Maybe I should be," Faith said bluntly. She eyed him. "Maybe I haven't come so far in those three years as you think I have."

"I don't agree," Wesley said simply.

Faith leaned forward, bracing her arms on the desk. She stared him dead in the eye. "I haven't. Right now, I'm dying to drive a knife right through your pompous British heart."

Though Wesley visibly flinched, he maintained his composure. "I simply refuse to believe that," he said, shrugging casually.

Faith held her tense pose for a minute before releasing a musical laugh. "You grew balls, Wes," she said in admiration, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. "I knew that when I was carving you up with a piece of broken glass, but now it's like a lifestyle choice. Kick ass for you," she said, giving him a slight nod.

Wesley let out a quiet sigh. "I'm not entirely sure I should take that as a compliment," he said dryly.

Faith grinned at him. "You should," she promised him. She gave him a thoughtful look. "How'd you know about me?" she asked after a minute. "How I'd changed, what I was like? You were so damn sure you were right about me, even though I'd never given you any reason to believe I'm a good little Slayer again."

Wesley laughed, a full laugh, for the first time since he'd seen Faith standing there. "Faith, you were *never* a 'good little Slayer,' you were always testing the limits," he managed to say.

Faith grinned ruefully. "True," she conceded. "But are you gonna answer my question?"

Wesley paused. "I asked Angel," he said finally. "I knew he made the visits to the prison, and I also knew that Cordelia wasn't the least bit interested whether or not you were doing okay. I thought Angel would like to share his news with someone, so I volunteered."

"Gotcha."

Wesley smiled slightly when he looked at her. "He was so very proud of you, did you know that?" he asked softly. "Every time he came back from a visit with you, he was so happy. He would tell me how I wouldn't regret giving you a chance. He would tell me how you would prove both of us right. Three years later, here you are."

Faith's smile faltered. "I'm not exactly sure about that, but we'll see how things go," she said, forcing a cheerfulness she didn't entirely feel.

Wesley gave her a gentle smile, but declined to respond. They regarded each other for a few silent moments before he asked his next question. "How did you get released?"

She gave him a sheepish look. "One of Mayor Wilkins' old underlings, who knew how much I meant to the Boss, was looking out for me. He hired a lawyer to get me a reduced sentence, which he did 'cause of some technical loophole with my confession. My sentence got dropped to seven years, then I got paroled. Time off for good behavior. Who'd'a thought it, huh?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "It doesn't surprise me, Faith. In the entire time I've known you, you've never backed down from any challenge. Prison was the biggest challenge of them all. You only had two ways to go."

"And I went the right way."

"That you did."

They smiled at each other. It was a comfortable silence that was broken when Fred burst into the office. "Wes, you'll never believe-!" She came to an abrupt halt when she saw Faith. "Uh, hi."

His eyes never leaving Faith's face, Wesley addressed her. "Fred, this is Faith."

Fred blinked at the other woman, then stuck her hand out. "Hi, Faith. I'm Fred."

Faith regarded her in amusement. "Yeah, I kinda got that when Wes called you Fred."

Flustered, Fred turned her attention to Wesley, trying to ignore Faith. "Okay, so this maybe isn't the best time, but I thought I'd tell you that Connor is walking."

Wesley sat upright, his eyes bright. "Really? How wonderful." He started to stand up, gesturing to Faith as he rose. "Come with us."

Not quite sure what the fuss was about, and completely confused as to who Connor was, Faith didn't argue as she followed Wesley and Fred into the lobby.

She blinked when she saw the toddler taking mincing steps on wobbly legs toward Angel's outstretched arms. She was baffled when she saw the ear-to-ear grin on Angel's face, mirrored on Cordelia's as she stood next to him, bent at the waist with her hands braced on her knees.

Glancing at Wes, she smirked. "Did I step into the freaking Twilight Zone or something?" she mumbled under her breath.

Wesley's eyes rounded in shock. "Angel never told you?"

"Told me what?" Faith demanded, her tone wary.

"Connor is Angel's son, by Darla. By some weird stroke of nature, she got pregnant. She staked herself in order to give him life, and Angel's been the proud father ever since."

Faith couldn't help it; her jaw hung open in surprise. "You're shittin' me," she protested. "Angel has a kid?"

Wesley nodded. "Connor will be a year old next month," he informed her.

Faith hung back as Wesley and Fred approached Angel and Cordelia. Angel never looked up, concentrating instead on his son, but Cordelia glanced over at her coworkers. Her eyes widened when she saw Faith and instinctively, she rushed to Connor and grabbed him up. The boy let out an unhappy squall and Angel gaped at Cordelia.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked in bewilderment. 

Cordelia glared at Faith. "Ask the psycho bitch standing on the other side of the room," she gritted out.

Angel swung around to see Faith looking uncomfortable. "Look, Angel Boy, if it's gonna be that huge a deal, I'll motor. I got other places to go," she lied. "Just thought I'd come check the place out, give you the skinny on my unexpected lack of incarceration. But I can split."

Angel smiled at her, casting Cordelia a warning glance. "Not a chance, Faith. Stick around, you're more than welcome here."

Faith snorted, gesturing in Cordelia's direction. "Not a unanimous decision, but I'll take the boss's word as final."

Wesley cleared his throat, and Angel shook his head. "I think you already had the boss's word," he remarked. "Considering Wes brought you in here. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't trust you to be around us."

Faith raised surprised eyes to Wesley. "No shit?" she asked. At Wesley's nod of affirmation, she held up a hand for him to high-five. "Kick. You finally got a chance to prove yourself."

Wesley winked at her. "Looks like we both did."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent. It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred. Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."

Four months later

Faith bounced into Wesley's office to see him, as per usual, hunched over a book. "C'mon, Wes, give it up already!" she insisted, hopping up on the desk and ruffling his hair. "You're going to be as moldy as those damn books if you don't get out of the office and into some sunshine."

Wesley cast Faith an affectionate look, shaking his head ruefully. "I'm reading a most fascinating text," he started to explain, but Faith rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. To you, all those prehistoric things are fascinating."

"It's India Cohen's Watcher's diary."

Faith blinked. "And India Cohen would be?" she prompted.

"The Slayer before Buffy."

She smiled uneasily. "The one who kicked it and got B her job as The Best Little Slayer in the World."

Wesley laughed. "I wouldn't necessarily call her that, but yes, India is Buffy's predecessor and therefore Buffy was Called upon India's death."

"B know about her?" Faith asked, her finger idly tracing patterns on the desktop. Her voice was casual, but the uncertain flick of her eyes to Wesley's face betrayed her discomfort with the subject.

Wesley shook his head. "As far as I'm aware, she never asked Giles about the Slayer before her. Most Slayers don't. You and Kendra were in unique positions, of course, with Kendra being Called and then finding out Buffy had been reanimated. And you were around people who had known Kendra, and had reason to speak of her. All the other Slayers before the two of you held to the pattern of not wanting to know about the girl whose death had Called them," he explained.

Faith shifted on the desk. "So this India. What was so special about her that you're so up on reading her Watcher's diary?"

Wesley looked slightly uncomfortable. "India's death was rather… unorthodox."

Faith snickered. "Death usually is, Wes."

Wesley gave her a mildly reproving look. "India committed what amounted to suicide. She was hacked to pieces by a demon with an axe, because she sacrificed herself so that her Watcher, Christopher Bothwell, might be spared."

"What's the big deal about that?"

"According to Bothwell's diary, the two were very much in love. She let herself be killed not for her duty, but for love."

Faith stared at him incredulously. "What? Was the chick mental or something?"

Wesley sighed. "No, merely in love."

Faith snorted. "Same thing."

Wesley smirked at her. "I'm just curious as to how this could have happened."

"What? That India got herself sliced'n'diced?"

Rolling his eyes, Wesley replied, "No. How she and Bothwell could have allowed themselves to fall in love."

Faith shrugged. "Who else did they have?"

Wesley was taken aback. "Are you suggesting that it was a matter of proximity?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I guess, yeah, in a way. I mean, of course they shared the whole Slaying bond, so they could understand each other. But really, it's the truth. Who else could they have turned to? Who could they have shared the whole Chosen One legacy with? B's a little different than most Slayers, with the whole having friends and a personal life thing. The rest of us, we gotta deal with being all by our lonesome, except our Watcher."

Wesley regarded her for a moment. "You would think it would have happened before, then, if that reasoning holds true. This is the first recorded instance of Watcher/Slayer love."

"Key word, 'recorded.' You think it hasn't happened before? Most of the other Watchers I bet were just smart enough not to write anything about it, for fear that they'd get their scones and tea membership revoked," Faith countered with a grin.

He sighed in exasperation. Sometimes, Faith really was a challenge.

"Think about it though, Wes," she continued. "The Slayer is always a girl who is just hitting that point in her life where she wants love and romance. She gets paired with a hot English guy, the only person in all the world that she can talk to honestly, and not have to worry about what she's saying, the only person who really knows who she is, you think she's not going to fall back asswards in love?" 

She paused as a visual came to mind. "Suddenly glad that B was so well-rounded and unconventional. 'Cause if she'd gone the route of having no one but Giles, well, the two of them together? Major 'eww' factor." She scrunched up her nose. "Okay, that was just gross."

Wesley couldn't help but laugh. "So where does that leave you, Faith?" he teased.

Her eyes dropped. "I was playing the love game long before I ever got Called," she responded, attempting to sound indifferent. "By the time I hit Sunnydale's streets, I already knew I didn't need anyone but myself."

Wesley flinched. He hadn't done much to negate that opinion.

Faith caught the move and sighed. "Quit with the blaming, Wes. Not your fault. I was just a little more advanced than most girls," she said lightly.

"Still, I could have tried harder," he began, but she cut him off by standing up.

"What could you have done?" she challenged him. "I was already set on my path, as Angel would say. I was so isolated by then that no one could have helped me. Lord knows B tried." She shrugged awkwardly, a thin smile appearing on her face. "Everything has its reason, ya know?" she asked, the brightness in her voice forced. "My reason was to get me to where I am."

Wesley watched her in silence as she moved toward the door. "Those Slayers fell in love with their Watchers because they needed it, Wes," she said softly, her hand lingering on the doorknob. "They needed to be loved, and that was all they had. All they could get. So they took it."

"Do you regret anything, Faith?" he couldn't help but ask.

She shrugged. "What's there to regret? My life was shit before, but it's not now. I'm not the philosophical type, but I gotta figure I am where I am because of everything that's happened. And I happen to like what I've got. So why should I regret what it took to get me here?"

He nodded quietly, watching her as she disappeared through the doorway, pulling it shut behind her. He resumed his perusal of Bothwell's diary, feeling slightly troubled but unable to figure out what it was that was bothering him.

A sound distracted him and he glanced up, spying Faith through the glass. She was holding Connor and laughing, talking animatedly to Angel. A smile appeared unbidden on Wesley's face as he compared the Faith of now with the Faith of then. It was remarkable, really, how much she'd changed. 

As a Watcher, he was proud of his Slayer's resilience. She'd bounced back from a life that would have killed her, and become the sort of hero she'd always thought she could never be. Someone like Buffy. A quieter hero, perhaps, but a hero nonetheless.

The smile faded as he thought about his role in that revolution. He'd done virtually nothing to help her, and it had been his job to be there for her more than anyone else. Not for the first time, he lamented his failures as a Council member. Maybe, as Faith said, there had been nothing he could do to help her. But surely his actions had hurt her, and of that he could never absolve himself.

It came to him slowly, made itself known to him without his being aware of it, as he watched her play with Angel's son. he realized, clarity dawning on him. 

He felt sick as he finally understood what she'd been trying to say, not just in the past few minutes, but all those years ago.

"They needed to be loved, and that was all they had. All they could get."

How many times had she asked him to love her? To be hers, to be for her what no one else could be. She'd watched her fellow Slayer bask in the love of her Watcher, her best friends, her vampire lover. The other girl had it all, and Faith had nothing. 

How many times had she turned to him, mocking him, or speaking to him with derision in her voice, and been silently begging him to be that for her? To be her confidante, her friend? She'd needed to be loved just as much as any other young girl, perhaps more, with her painful youth scarring her heart, and she'd wanted only what she could get. She didn't have what Buffy had, but she had the Watcher.

And instead of loving her, allowing himself to care about her, he'd been harsh and clumsy with her, driving her further and further away until she was like a wild animal, trusting no one. Whatever she'd become was more his fault than he had previously imagined.

Closing his eyes, Wesley swallowed hard. he thought grimly,


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent. It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred. Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."

"Faith, might I have a word with you?"

Faith was hanging over the side of her bed, legs bent at the knees, toes pressing into the wall, while she flipped through a magazine. Lifting her head slightly, she peered through a curtain of chocolate hair.

"Sure, Wes. Hell, have two if you really want," she said cheekily.

Wesley rolled his eyes as he moved into the room, closing the door behind him. "Will you ever get over your need for constant sarcasm?"

"Maybe. A couple lifetimes from now," she said with a smirk. She rolled over onto her back, bent at the waist and still hanging upside down. She slid her feet up the wall to brace her legs. Her hair hung to the floor and he saw the blood rushing to her face.

"Faith, sit up. You'll give yourself a dreadful headache doing that."

"What are you, my nanny?" she sassed.

"No, I'm your Watcher."

The rasping sounds of her feet scraping over the wall stopped as she paused in her movements. She took his advice and sat up, staring at him warily while she waited for the bloodrush to finish and her brain to clear.

"My Watcher, huh?"

Wesley sat down nervously on her bed. He cleared his throat as he met her gaze. "Yes, if you'll have me. I realize that you're too old to be trained, as it were, as a Slayer should be. You're set in your ways, and you need me less now than you ever did before. But I can't help but feel that we both need a second chance. And it never hurts to train, to keep your abilities sharp and focused."

He was fumbling for closure, and Faith knew it. She grinned. "All that talk earlier about Watchers and Slayers and their bond got your hamster wheel turning, didn't it?" she asked, sinking back onto her pillow.

Wesley was dumbfounded. "I had forgotten how perceptive you are," he said finally.

Faith shrugged, her shoulder digging into the mattress beneath her. "Not about the things that really count, I guess," she remarked off-handedly. "But sure. Perceptive. And my perception is telling me that you want a second chance for you, not for us. You don't want to remember me as the thing you screwed up."

He winced. "Really, Faith, it isn't like that…"

"Yeah, it is." Faith sat up again, swinging one leg onto the floor while she tucked the other beneath her. "You and I are already back on okay terms. Better than when we really were Watcher and Slayer. So what's to be gained by doing the thing the official way, other than you get to say you did it right?"

He shook his head. "One of these days, Faith, you're going to have to stop going for the jugular."

She laughed. "Subtlety's never been my thing, Wes."

He absent-mindedly rubbed his ribs. "A lesson I learned all too well." She paled and he cursed softly. "Faith, I'm sorry."

She waved it off, swallowing. "Nah, man, it's cool." There was an uncomfortable pause, then she began fidgeting with the edge of her bedspread, unable to look him in the eyes. "I guess if anyone around here needs to do any apologizing, it's me."

"No need. It's been forgotten."

She laid a hand on his, the one that was still protectively wrapped around his abdomen. "Obviously it hasn't." The warmth of her palm over his disturbed them both and she yanked her arm back. "I owe you one, anyway." She took a deep breath, expelling it in a rush. "Look, Wes, this ain't my thing. You know that. I've never apologized for anything I've done in my life, and I go by the motto that I'm more owed than owing. But one of the things Angel was trying to teach me, before I went all martyr, was that I should recognize when I've screwed people over. That I should be strong enough to admit to it, and to apologize for it."

She fell silent and he wanted to reach out and take her hand in his, let her know that he understood and that he didn't expect anything from her.  
"Aside from B, I screwed you over more than anyone else. Of everybody, I was supposed to trust you the most, and I didn't. I could have stopped everything in my downward spiral if I'd just asked you for help. But not me, I was too damn proud." Tears smarted at her eyes but she willed them back. She'd never been a crier, and she wasn't going to start now. "I took it too far when I tortured you. That's the only thing that I've done that I wish with all my heart I could take back. I'm sorry, Wes. I'll always be sorry." 

She rubbed her face with both palms before giving him a half-hearted smile. "There, that wasn't so hard. Sounded lame as hell, but it's the best I can do."

He slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair. "It was beautiful, Faith, and I accept it. Now we can let those unpleasant memories die."

She wiggled away from him and gave him a toothy grin. "I'll beat 'em out of you." She snickered when she saw the flash of alarm across his face. "After all, if we're going to be training, I'll probably end up kicking your ass quite a few times. I still remember most of the bumps and bruises that B gave Giles."

Wesley grimaced. "As do I. Take it easy on an old man, will you?"

She beamed as she slung an arm around his shoulders. "Not a chance in hell, Wes. I never do things halfway."

"I know, Faith, I know," he murmured, gazing at her fondly.

A knock on the door startled both of them. "Yeah?" Faith called, her voice mildly annoyed. The only other person in the hotel who she didn't consider an interruption, besides Wesley, was Angel. And the bird-like knock told her it wasn't Angel. 

"Faith?" It was Fred. Great. Mouse girl.

"Yeah, considering it's my room, who did you think would be answering you?" Faith muttered as she hauled herself off the bed and over to the door. She swung it open, an irritated look planted firmly on her face.

Fred's glance flickered behind Faith to Wesley, who was still sitting on the bed. Her eyes widened marginally before she returned her attention to Faith. "Uh, Angel wanted to know if you wanted to go to Senaya's. There's supposed to be some kind of ceremony going on involving Yvidian demons. He thought you might be interested in helping him stop it."

"Sure. I'm down." Faith had caught the look of surprise on Fred's face when she'd discovered Wesley in Faith's room. she thought with a mental smirk. 

Faith pulled open her closet and stripped off her shirt, observing from the corner of her eye that both Wesley's and Fred's jaws had dropped. Wesley, she was pleased to note, colored slightly but still looked. Fred was visibly distressed.

She directed her first comment at Fred while rummaging for the close-fitting, sleeveless black leather vest she knew was in the closet somewhere. "Go tell Angel I'll be down in two, I just gotta change into some fighting clothes." To Wesley, she added, "And if we get back in decent time, you and I can get in a little one-on-one," she said throatily, deliberately making her voice smoky so that Fred would be misled into believing the nature of their activities was less than innocent.

Let Wes himself think what he wanted to.

Fred stuttered out a reply and bolted. Wesley drew in a deep breath before attempting to scold her. "I don't know what you're trying to do, Faith, but it's highly inappropriate," he began.

She slid the vest on, buttoning it up midway. She was satisfied that it molded to her breasts like a second skin, her cleavage ample and clearly visible due to the fact that she'd left the top two buttons undone. When a glance in the mirror told her she still had it, she sauntered over to Wesley and slid herself in his lap.

"C'mon, Wes, weren't we just talking about this very thing this morning?" she teased, looping her arms around his neck. "Watchers and Slayers got it on all the time. They sure as hell didn't let 'inappropriate' stop them."

He refused to glance down into the enticing vee of her neckline. "Faith, we aren't that way. That's not what our relationship is about."

She shrugged and stood back up, sliding her shorts down her trim legs and discarding them. She bent over a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans, slipping into them quickly and buttoning them up. Giving him a quiet smile, she indicated the door. He held it open for her as she left the room, then followed, closing it behind him. 

They had gotten almost to the bottom of the stairs when Faith glanced back and grinned faintly. "It could have been, you know," she said softly as she spotted Angel standing at the desk in the lobby. "In another lifetime."

Wesley stared after her speechlessly as she crossed the cavernous room and lightly punched Angel on the shoulder. He was still at a loss for words when the two had disappeared from the Hyperion, leaving him alone to consider what Faith had said.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent. It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred. Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."

"Good afternoon, Fred. Have you seen Faith around, by chance?"

Fred looked up from her book and smiled at Wesley. "She was heading down to the training room the last time I saw her, about forty minutes ago."

"Really?" Wesley supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, as Faith had taken to her new training regimen with an eagerness she'd never quite managed before. Lately, it seemed as if when she wasn't patrolling, she was training. 

"Yep. Had on her training clothes and was carrying a couple swords and a crossbow," Fred confirmed. 

"Right then. Well, thank you," he said absently, turning around and heading in the direction of the stairs. Fred hurriedly got up from her desk and followed after him.

"I was wondering," she began shyly.

Wesley looked up, surprised to see her walking next to him. "What would that be?"

"I was thinking maybe you and I could set up some training sessions," she said quickly, her smile nervous. "Like how you and Faith train. I want to be able to defend myself instead of just cower in the corner."

Wesley smiled kindly. "I think that's a fantastic idea," he assured her. "Perhaps Faith wouldn't mind if we barged in on her alone time and we could start today?"

Fred blinked rapidly, then nodded. "Sure. I'll just run upstairs and get some clothes," she offered.

Wesley watched her go, his smile just a touch wistful. It had been over a year since he'd lost Fred to Gunn, and while he missed what might have been, he finally felt as if he was able to move on.

"It's about bloody time," he murmured to himself as he opened the door to the training room. He descended the stairs, his steps faltering as his Slayer came into view.

It was like watching poetry come to life. Her lithe form whirled and twisted and leaped, her movements precise and beautifully lethal. He caught his breath as she spun around, her shape nearly becoming a blur, before she launched into a series of perfectly executed punches and kicks. 

He wasn't aware of when Fred came to a stop beside him. All he could see was Faith, her beauty, her deadly grace, as if she were a lioness poised to pounce on her prey. He released a slow breath when she came to a stop, reaching for a towel and mopping at her moist skin. 

He was startled when Fred placed a hand on her shoulder. "Wes? Are you okay?"

Before he could answer, he saw Faith angle her head and peer up at him. "What the hell are you doing standing up there, Wes?" she asked him in annoyance. "Shouldn't you be down here, criticizing every move I make?"

Wesley shook his head slightly, wondering how on earth he could find something about her performance to criticize. "I didn't want to break your concentration," he said instead as he descended the rest of the steps, Fred following close behind.

"Well, concentration broke," Faith sassed. "Thanks to you and Girl Wonder there."

Fred looked up to Wesley uncertainly, but he was already frowning reprovingly. "There's no need to insult Fred," he chastised her.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. She's perfect. My bad."

Fred looked ready to say something, but Wesley stepped in. "Fred was wondering if perhaps she could train, as you do. Would you be interested in participating in a joint training session?"

Faith looked straight at Fred and smirked. "Somehow, Wes, I think my presence would only be an intrusion," she said lightly. She ran the towel over her body, soaking up any excess sweat that had collected on her clothing. She pulled at the elastic that held her hair back in a ponytail, shaking it out, letting the damp tendrils curl over her shoulders and down her back. "Besides, I'm done here. I'll let you two have the place to yourselves," she said, winking.

Wesley nearly objected as Faith headed up the stairs, but remained quiet and sighed instead. "Well, Fred, are you ready?" he asked gamely.

Fred looked upset as she sat down on one of the practice mats. "You don't want to do this," she accused.

Wesley blinked. "Why would you say that?" he asked, perplexed. "I fully agreed to train you."

Fred shook her head. "Only if Faith was here," she reminded him. "You don't want me around if she's not."

He laughed. "That's absurd, Fred. Faith has nothing to do with my willingness to train you."

Fred popped back up off the mat and put her hands on her hips. "You don't even realize it, do you?" she asked, her eyes widening as it finally dawned on her.

Wesley was starting to become irritated. "Realize *what*, Fred?" he asked impatiently.

"You don't have any clue how you follow her around. How suddenly it's all the time 'Faith did this' or 'Faith said that'. Everything in your life is all about her now," Fred pointed out, her large eyes looking more and more wounded.

Wesley sighed. "You're being ridiculous, Fred," he began, but she cut him off.

"Do you even know how you were looking at her, standing on the stairs?" she questioned him, her voice dropped nearly to a whisper.

He shook his head, confused, and starting to feel a little dread creep up on him. "How's that?"

"You looked at her like you used to look at me," she finished, her voice small. "Like there was nothing you wanted more."

Wesley sucked in a quick breath. "That's what this is all about, isn't it?" he realized. "It has nothing to do with how I feel about Faith, it's the fact that I no longer grant you your every whim. It's because I no longer wish I were in Gunn's place." He sounded bitter. "What's the matter, Fred? Feeling the pinch now that you can't play the two of us against each other?"

Fred slapped him across the face before her eyes filled with tears. "How dare you?" she cried. "I never asked you to love me!"

Wesley laughed humorlessly. "No, you didn't," he agreed. "But you certainly didn't mind how I doted on you constantly."

Fred looked mad enough to spit nails. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore, though," she snapped. "Now that you have someone else to trail after like a puppy."

Wesley counted silently to ten before he lowered his glare from the ceiling back to Fred's face. "I do *not* trail after Faith like a puppy," he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Fred laughed sharply. "Right, and hell isn't real."

Wesley shook his head and stepped around her. "This is truly ridiculous, Fred. There's no reason for this argument to be happening. You made your choice a year and a half ago, and you chose Gunn. That's your right. I've chosen to move on. I hardly think you have a right to be upset with me because of it."

"Wes."

Wesley stopped, his back stiff. "What, Fred?"

"I just don't want to see Faith hurt you."

Wesley chuckled bitterly. "Oh, so it's perfectly alright for *you* to hurt me, but it's not for Faith," he challenged her.

She stomped over to stand in front of him, her arms across her chest. "No, it's not okay for *either* of us to hurt you," she snapped back at him. "But I tried not to. I couldn't help how you felt about me, any more than I could help the fact that I fell in love with Charles instead of you. But Faith, well, she likes to toy with people. I've seen it from the first day she walked in to this hotel. She's had you wrapped around her little finger since then and she's just waiting to break you."

Wesley bristled with anger. "You know *nothing* about Faith," he said coldly. "You have no idea what she did to me, what I did to her, and what we've both done to overcome everything in our past. I hardly think you're the person to pass judgment on her."

Fred looked taken aback, but she pressed on anyway. "All I know, Wes, is that you're in love with her. And you're going to get your heart broken again."   
Wesley stared at her. "I am *not* in love with Faith."

Fred rolled her eyes. "You so are," she insisted. "And I know that it's never going to work out. I might not know what you and Faith have done to each other, and what she's done to you to get you to defend her even after she brutally *tortured* you, but I know that Faith is in it only for herself. She doesn't give a damn about you."

Wesley had paled upon Fred's reminder of the pain he'd suffered at Faith's hands, but he brushed off the rest of her speech. "I'm not in love with Faith. And if she chooses to live her life for herself, well, that's hardly any concern of mine," he said roughly. "I'm merely her Watcher. My duty to her is to make sure that she's prepared to fight to the best of her ability. I'll never forget that torture, Fred. Now content yourself with knowing that I'm smart enough to not become entangled with her."

Fred's snort of derision followed him as he stalked away from the center of the room, toward the stairs. He had just barely swung himself into the stairwell when he happened to glance up. The blood rushed from his face to his feet when he saw Faith standing at the top of the steps, her hand on the doorknob, her face stricken and filled with pain. When she saw him, her face crumpled and she yanked the door open, running through it and disappearing.

Wesley swore angrily as he raced after her.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent. It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred. Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."

He searched the Hyperion for the better part of an hour without any luck. He'd opened every door, searched every hideaway, scoured every section of the building, never finding even a hair of her.

Sighing, he headed for the roof. He felt badly that Faith had overheard his and Fred's argument; it wasn't her fault that Fred had chosen an inopportune time to voice her frustrations. He'd wanted to find her, to apologize to her. A part of him wondered if an apology would be enough. He'd vowed to change his past behavior and rectify old mistakes, and here he was throwing her faults in her face. Unintentionally, of course, but doing so all the same.

He was relieved to open the door and feel the cool evening air brush his face. He'd taken to coming up here from time to time; Angel revealed that he'd had many an introspective talk with Doyle up here and could no longer find solace on the rooftop, so Wesley considered it his own private space.

But apparently not anymore.

He chuckled as he stepped around the corner and saw Faith gazing out over the city skyline, propping herself up on forearms braced against the waist-high ledge. Trust Faith to be exactly where he never thought she would go.

"I see you've discovered my sanctuary," he said gently, hoping not to startle her.

She didn't move, just continued to let her eyes wander over the blaze of blinking neon. "Kinda peaceful up here. Need it every now and then."

"Particularly after hearing a rather unflattering portrait of our relationship, perhaps?"

She turned her head slightly, eyeing him with a wry smile. "Yeah, maybe. Not like it wasn't all true, though. You don't owe me anything. I did shit to you that no human should ever forgive."

"I suppose you've never heard the phrase 'To err is human, to forgive Divine?" he chided lightly.

She smirked. "I know you think pretty damn highly of yourself, Wes, but even you wouldn't dare think you're God."

Wes chuckled, leaning back against the ledge and resting his elbows on the rough stone. "I was referring to a Divinely-given power, Faith, not a Divine quality."

She shrugged. "It's all the same to me." She snorted. "But maybe someone should remind Princess Bitchy in there."

Wes's face darkened as she brought up Fred, reminding him of the reason he'd sought her out. "I must apologize for the discussion-well, perhaps quarrel is a better term-you overheard. It wasn't my intention for you to be subjected to such ugly words."

Faith made a face. "I could handle what you said. It's her who pissed me off." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, has she always been this passive-aggressive? Or did I just bring out the worst in her?"

Wes smiled ruefully. "I think she's feeling a bit territorial," he offered as an explanation. "Fred has never felt challenged by Cordelia; they each have their domain, and each rules it as she sees fit. Cordelia has Angel wrapped around her finger, while Fred has always had the pleasure of Gunn's and my devotion."

Faith wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, what's up with that? How come everybody loves her? Does she have golden tits or something?"

Wes couldn't help but laugh, despite Faith's crudity. "Not exactly. She had a special quality about her, and you must remember that when she first arrived here, she seemed much like a damsel in distress. Both Gunn and I were only too eager to be her white knights in shining armor."

"What is up with you people and being saviors?" Faith grumbled under her breath.

Wes smiled slightly. "However, the golden glow has faded. I no longer see her the way she's used to me seeing her. It must sting her pride, her feminine vanity to realize that I have moved on. She lashed out at me, using your and my close relationship to wound me with insinuations."

Faith looked at him closely. "Didn't sound to me like they were just insinuations, Wes. She was as jealous as she was pissed off."

He colored a bit, clearing his throat and changing the subject. "Exactly how much of that conversation did you happen to catch?"

She thought for a minute. "I came back in to grab my weapons, since I figured you weren't going to give her crossbow and sword lessons on her first day. I was thinking about whether I should leave you two alone, since I could tell she was itching for some one-on-one time with you, so I wasn't listening when I opened the door."

Her eyes darkened as she recalled. "I missed most of it, but the first thing my brain processed was Fred sniping about you defending me even after I tortured you. Then she whined that I'm 'only in it for myself,' and that I 'don't give a damn about you.'" Her voice was bitter as she quoted the other woman.

Wes growled low in his throat. "I'd like to strangle her petty little neck for saying that." He couldn't help but be relieved that she'd missed the rest of Fred's degrading and unflattering remarks.

Faith shrugged. "There's no love lost between me and her. She hates that I came around and gave you something else-*someone* else-to focus on besides her."

Wes nodded, sighing. "I'd never realized that she could be that way."

"Well, it wasn't like anyone had given her a reason to. Like you said, she ruled her little world, which consisted of you and Gunn. That was the way she wanted it."

He straightened, clearing his throat. "I don't know about you, but I can think of other things I'd rather be doing than discussing Fred's quirks of personality."

Faith grinned devilishly, lowering her eyes before raising them back to his face and winking. "So can I," she said with a laugh. "But somehow, I don't think you and I are on the same wavelength on that one."

He couldn't help it, this time he blushed fully, the color seeping up his neck to his cheeks. "I doubt that I will ever be on your wavelength, Faith."

The grin slipped a little, but her eyes were still twinkling. "You'd be surprised, Wes."

He smiled fondly, offering her his arm. "Actually, I highly doubt I would," he confided. "I've learned that you are always surprising, so I should never be surprised by anything you do."

The look on Faith's face as she tried to puzzle that one out was comical. Finally she sighed and gave up. "I think I get your logic, but sometimes I'm really not sure," she joked. "So I'll just accept that as a compliment."

Wes laughed as he opened the door and led them back inside the Hyperion. They continued joking with each other as they descended the stairs.

He felt amazingly at ease with her. It was something he never thought would happen; not all those years ago when he first attempted to play the role of Watcher with her, certainly not when she was carving him up with glass, and if he was honest with himself, not even when she first arrived at the Hyperion seeking a second chance.

He wouldn't trade it for the world.

Faith made her way into the kitchen and Wes tagged behind. When she began rummaging through the cupboards, he brightened. 

"How would you feel about dinner?" he suggested.

She turned her head, smirking at him as he stood behind her. "I feel good about it. Hence the diggage for decent food," she snarked, gesturing at the tumbled condition of the cabinet's interior. 

He rolled his eyes. "I suppose if you ever gave up your smart-ass ways, I would have a heart attack from shock."

She grinned. "Couldn't have that. So I'll just keep being a smartass."

Wes shook his head, smiling good-naturedly. "I was going to suggest we go beyond the hotel's doors for our evening meal."

"Like, a restaurant?" Faith asked in surprise. He nodded. "Hot damn. You don't have to ask me twice."

"Good, because I hadn't planned on it."

"*Now* who's being the smartass?" she retorted.

He laughed. "Why don't you go change out of your workout clothes? I'll wait for you."

They barely acknowledged Angel when he opened the door and headed for the fridge, pulling out a container of blood and popping it in the microwave.

"What should I wear?" Faith asked as she pushed open the door that had just swung shut.

Wes's eyes twinkled. "Surprise me."

They shared a private smile, which Angel was quick to catch. When Faith had disappeared, he turned to Wes curiously. 

"What was that all about?"

Wes shrugged, an enigmatic expression on his face. "Inside joke."

Angel shook his head. "You two. I should have known when she showed up that there was going to be trouble."

Wes settled comfortably against the counter as he watched Angel drink the blood. "On the contrary. She's brightened an otherwise gray existence."

Angel regarded Wes thoughtfully. "You're glad she's here, aren't you?"

Wes nodded. "Quite glad. She's given me something back that I'd lost."

"Faith."

Wes laughed at the pun. "In myself, yes."

Angel shook his head again. "I meant she gave you herself. You lost a Slayer, now you have her again."

Wes acknowledged that with a silent nod, thinking about the truth of the words. His mind drifted back to the argument he'd had with Fred. She'd accused him of a number of things, all of which he'd denied.

He looked up as Faith bounded into the kitchen, attired appropriately for dinner in a nice restaurant. He wasn't oblivious to the quickening of his heart, the sense that he wasn't getting quite enough oxygen.

Perhaps Fred hadn't been far off-track in her accusations, after all.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent. It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred. Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."

Over the next few months, Wes found himself spending more and more time with Faith. They'd become nearly inseparable. When he wasn't with her, he was thinking about her. His thoughts were so muddled that he felt like he was going to go mad.

He finally found the nerve to broach the subject with Angel. He was the only other person Faith had allowed to get close to her, and Wes felt certain that the vampire would have the wisdom and the answers he was seeking.

He found Angel in his office, knocking lightly on the partially opened door. Angel looked up in surprise. "Wes. What's going on? Do we have a case?"

He shook his head as he stepped into the office and closed the door. He was quiet, trying to sort out his thoughts and feelings as he settled into a chair. "No, nothing like that. I have a… personal matter that I need advisement on."

"Tell her you love her."

"What?" Wes stared at Angel in shock.

"It's about Faith, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but…" Wes floundered, rattled by Angel's perception.

"Tell her you love her. It's easy."

"It's not easy and you damn well know it!" Wes sputtered in exasperation.

Angel grinned, satisfied. He'd at least gotten the stuffy Englishman to admit to the feelings he'd been denying since the hell-on-wheels Slayer came back into their lives. "Well, what's the problem?" he unmercifully goaded his friend.

"The problem is, that it's not right," Wes retorted indignantly. "We have a professional relationship that should not be breached by inappropriate personal feelings."

Angel rolled his eyes. "Come on, Wes. Take the stick out of your ass." He was thoroughly enjoying being on this side of the brood-fence, for once. "The Council is in England, and you're not even a part of it anymore. It was *your* idea to resume your old Watcher-Slayer relationship. You're both adults, it's not like she's a sixteen-year-old girl anymore."

Wes slumped in the chair, the protests dying on his lips. He knew Angel was right. "What if she doesn't feel the same?" he asked, his voice low.

Angel recognized that they'd hit on the root of the problem. "She's not Fred," he reminded Wes gently. "She wouldn't lead you on."

Wes twisted his lips into a grimace at the reference to his last ill-fated love. "Thank God for that," he muttered, his tone as acidic as his words.

"Faith's the type of woman who doesn't know what she wants or needs until she's staring it right in the face," Angel pointed out. "Even then she'd probably be too stubborn to accept it. She's never going to say a word to you, Wes, not until you make her realize how you feel. Then it's up to her to figure out her own heart."

"That's the hard part," Wes sighed. "The waiting. The anticipation."

"Then comes the reward," Angel said, barreling past Wes's bleak thoughts.

"Possibly."

"Probably. Maybe you hadn't realized it 'cause you're so busy sitting there worrying about your own feelings, but Faith does nothing but talk about you. It's either about something you did or something you said, or she's singing your praises about something or another, but you're always on her mind." He paused. "She's had a hard enough life that she's probably ignoring what her heart is telling her."

Wes lifted his lips into a brief smile. "How is it that you could possibly be so wise about the relationships of others, when you're so dreadfully inept at your own?"

It was Angel's turn to scowl. "Don't remind me."

Wes laughed lightly as he stood up. "Sorry, Angel. Didn't mean to rub it in."

Angel shrugged. "At least one of us will be happy."

Wes's smile faded. "I'll try to believe that."

"If you don't, Faith will walk all over your heart. And you'll be letting her."

Wes smirked. "Yes, Dad." Angel stuck his tongue out as Wes left the room.

He faltered as he reached the foot of the stairs. He wanted desperately to go find Faith, tell her how he felt. He'd denied his true feelings to himself for so long that he didn't know how he was going to admit them to her without sounding like a complete and utter fool, but he had to try.

Then there was the little voice that screamed at him that he was on the verge of making an ass of himself, and if he had an ounce of sanity or pride, he would turn around and see to the small amount of paperwork collecting in his office.

Cordelia took the decision away from him.

"Hey, Wes," she greeted him as she came downstairs. "Looking for your girl?"

He tried to cover his surprise. Did *everyone* know about his blasted feelings for Faith?

Cordelia snickered. "Yeah."

"Oh, good Lord. Please don't tell me I'm speaking my private thoughts aloud, now," he said in dismay.

"Nope, but you forget, this is me. I can read your face like an open book," she teased him. He grinned sheepishly and she took pity on him. "She's not here, anyway. She's out following up on a phone call we got."

Wes was immediately concerned. "She went out alone?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Duh, Wes! She's a Slayer, it's not exactly like she breaks easy. It's just a look-see. We got a report of suspicious demonic activity from one of our sources, so she said she'd go check it out and see what's the what."

Wes frowned. "I don't like the idea that she didn't take back-up."

She shrugged. "What was she supposed to do, go traipsing around the hotel asking if anyone wanted to go snoop in a building? Right. You know Faith better than any of us, and we *all* know she's the last person to ask for help. Especially when there's no fighting involved."

"True," Wes conceded with an irritated sigh. "But I'm her Watcher."

"Who acts more like a mother hen," Cordelia snorted. "I personally can't believe she's put up with your hovering as long as she has. She probably just needed a chance to get away from you and do some real Slayer-style patrolling on her own, for once."

Wes made a face at her. "How long ago did she leave?"

She thought. "Maybe half an hour ago?"

"She'll have had plenty of time to do some patrolling on her own," he surmised. "Where was the tip called in on?"

"An 'art house' at the corner of Grove and Palmer," she reported with a resigned sigh. "Seems males are the same the planet over, whether human, demon, or otherwise. They like their porn," she said with a shrug.

Wes shook his head. He knew the area she'd referenced, it was seedy and distasteful. All the more reason for him to go and find out how Faith was doing.

Although, knowing his Slayer as he did, he figured that once she was done checking the demons out she'd head into one of the nearby shops and probably make a purchase.

He thanked Cordelia for the information, then headed upstairs to change clothes and grab a few inconspicuous weapons. He made it to the shabby 'art house' within fifteen minutes, spotting Faith easily. He strode toward her, irritated.

"How did you expect to have any kind of success if you're so visible?" he lectured as soon as he was within speaking range.

Faith grinned good-naturedly at him. "I had a good teacher," she returned. "Besides, I was all about the stealth until I figured out nothing was in there."

Wes visibly relaxed. "Good. I don't like it when you go off alone when you have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he started, but Faith cut him off. 

"Yes, Dad," she sassed, unknowingly mimicking his retort to Angel what seemed a lifetime ago.

He huffed a little, but she threw an arm around his shoulders. "Don't bust anything. I was just on a reconnaissance mission anyway. I checked the place out, found a nest underneath the theater rooms, endured some odors I don't want to remember in any kind of lifetime, and got an idea of their lifestyle." She wrinkled her nose. "Not that I want to come back, but I think they'll probably hit their nest about nightfall."

"Well then, we'll be back-*all* of us-with proper weapons."

Faith rolled her eyes as she fell into step with him, slinging her stuff into the backseat of his SUV before hopping into the passenger seat. "Yeah, yeah, no solo fun for Faith," she groused as he slid in behind the wheel.

He glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge her mood as they drove along. She was watching the scenery fly by and didn't seem to be as irritated as her words had suggested.

"If you're up to it, I thought I might have a word with you when we get home," he began hesitantly. "I have a matter I'd like to discuss with you."

She looked at him curiously. "Sure, Wes. You know I'm always down for whatever you need from me."

He simply nodded, hoping against hope that this time would be no different from any other.

They were quiet until they reached the Hyperion. As Wes shut the engine off, he looked to Faith. "I'm going to go give Angel a report, let him know that we'll all be needed to go back tonight. Then I'll come up to your room."

"Sure thing," she said, watching him uneasily. He'd been so damn quiet, so serious when he asked her to talk. She was afraid something was seriously wrong. she groaned to herself.

She waited in her room for almost ten minutes, fidgeting restlessly. She turned the radio on, then decided she couldn't handle the noise. She tried reading a magazine, but the pages flipped past without her processing a single word. Just when she thought she was going to go insane, she heard footsteps outside her door.

"May I come in?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Wes. I thought we'd have our little talk with a door between us." She stood up and crossed over, pulling the door open and presenting him with a smirk, one hand propped on her cocked-out hip. "Get your uptight English ass in here."

Wes hesitantly stepped inside. He'd been in her room many times before, but today it seemed as if the walls were closing in on him. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run.

he lectured himself. He watched as she made her way back to the bed and plopped down. Summoning every last bit of courage he had, he followed and sat down next to her.

"I've been keeping something from you," he began. Faith's eyes immediately grew wary, distrustful. She'd had enough secrets in her life. "Although, to be honest, I've been keeping it from myself as well," he continued.

Seeing that she was growing both more confused and more suspicious, Wes sought to organize his thoughts so that his words made sense. "I don't know if you have any idea how glad I am that you came back to us," he said sincerely. When she did nothing but stare at him, he sighed. "You've brought something to my life, to all our lives."

"Yeah, something I'm betting Fred wishes she didn't have," Faith replied with a caustic snort.

"Probably," he agreed ruefully. "But whether you know it or not, you've changed things around here. For the better."

"What are you getting at, Wes?" she finally burst out impatiently. "You're not really here to talk about the differences around this place since I showed up. What are you really trying to say?"

"I love you," he said before he could stop himself.

Faith's eyes widened until she resembled an owl. "Uh, what?"

Wes mentally cursed himself for his clumsy handling of the situation. He'd grown more adept at conducting himself properly, but the buffoon inside him liked to lurk, waiting for an opportunity to make an appearance. He always chose the most inopportune moments. But, the damage had been done.

"I love you," he repeated, more softly this time. "I realize it's unexpected, but…" He trailed off at the dark look hovering on her face. He swallowed, knowing that he wasn't going to like whatever she was thinking.

"It's unwanted," she said harshly. She stood up, pacing around her room like a caged tigress. "I don't need your love, Wes. I wanted your friendship. I was happy with that, it was simple. Why'd you have to go and screw shit up?" she cried, whirling around to face him. Her dark eyes shimmered with anger.

His voice faltered. "I hadn't thought you would react so negatively. Obviously I was wrong about a great many things."

She softened. "It's not like I don't appreciate it, Wes," she offered. "But it's not what I want. Not the way you're talking. I like my life the way it is, with my friends and my job. I don't need a relationship messing with that. When you've got a man, suddenly you start thinking about everything in terms of him. I don't need that kind of hassle."

Wes stood up, gracious in defeat. "I apologize for impinging on that world," he said, his tone a touch stiff.

She watched helplessly as he left her room without another word. Her heart sank, knowing that between the two of them, they'd managed to ruin the best relationship she'd ever had.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent. It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred. Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."

They avoided each other for the rest of the day. It wasn't difficult, considering the size of the Hyperion. Every time their eyes did happen to meet, they both glanced quickly away. It was awkward and painful for both of them.

Faith was about ready to claw Fred's eyes out. The other woman had noticed the silence and strained tension between her and Wes, and correctly assumed that her prophetic predictions had come to pass. Fred gave Faith dirty looks every time she saw her, and several times appeared on the verge of voicing a comment. One deadly glare from Faith stopped them before they left her tongue.

It was a somber group that met in the lobby at ten. Everyone felt the friction between Wes and Faith, which affected the whole group. Angel made a short speech, since he was incapable of setting off on a mission without one, and they left, Faith leading the way.

Once they'd reached their destination, she guided them down into the recesses of the art house. "The nest was down here," she said quietly, not looking at anyone as they crept through darkened passageways. "I couldn't get a really accurate idea of how many there were. Best guess is four."

"I'm thinkin' twice that," Gunn said grimly. He gestured at the brightly-lit doorway that led to the nest. The room was full of demons. They were tall and an ugly orangeish-red color, covered in what looked like armored plates. Their eyes were solid black and empty.

Angel cursed. "Voquilas."

Cordelia sighed. "Not thinking that's a good thing."

He made a noise of agreement. "Nasty sons-of-bitches. Evil tempers, and the ability to control fire."

Faith shrugged. "So we take them out before they can barbecue us."

Wes shook his head. "It's not that simple, Faith. Their eyes burn until they are flaming, which they can project and manipulate up to a great distance."

She spared him a glance, then wished she hadn't. "Fine, Wes," she mumbled, looking away. "What do you suggest?"

"Shields would have been nice," he said dryly. "But at least we have our swords. Decapitation is the only way to kill a Voquila."

Faith nodded briskly. "Off with their heads. Got it. Let's go." Before anyone could say a word, she darted through the doorway and stirred up trouble. Cursing, Angel and Wes followed on her heels. Gunn, Cordelia, and Fred were left to fall into line.

They were so outnumbered that there was no time to create a battle plan, they just had to go in swinging. Instinctively they all knew the most important thing was to protect Angel, since he was most vulnerable to their fiery attacks. Wes felt the brunt of many fireballs and saw Faith take more than her fair share of streams of fire.

He wanted to kill with his bare hands the demons that had caused her pain, but realistically he knew she was probably faring better than any of them. She just shook off every hit and kept fighting. She'd managed to kill two before any of the rest of them got in a kill of their own.

His heart leaped into his throat when he saw her fighting one Voquila, which kept her distracted while another advanced on her from behind.

"Faith, behind you!" he shouted, giving her enough time to whirl and swing her blade in a deadly arc. The moves he'd seen her practicing that day so long ago served her now, and she effortlessly sliced through its neck.

He breathed a sigh of relief that was short-lived. He turned to see Fred and Gunn trying to distract another of the demons without making themselves targets. They were holding their own, so he made his way over to assist Cordelia and Angel.

He heard a scream of pain and he swore his heart would stop. His eyes sought Faith out, closing briefly in disbelief when he realized that the demon she'd been fighting had managed to get the upper hand. The demon's talon-like claws had speared into Faith's side, holding her aloft as she struggled to release herself from the painful grip.

She spit blood onto the demon's face, wincing as the claws dug deeper. Her eyes sought Wes's. "Help me," she pleaded.

Feeling like his chest was going to burst, Wes ran over and speared his sword through the demon's throat, listening to it howl in agony before collapsing, bringing Faith down with it. She screamed again at the pain the jarring motion caused.

As gently as he could, he pulled the deadened claw from her side. She was shaking, pale, and breathing heavily. When he knelt to assist her, she shook him off. "There's still three left," she rasped. "Cordy and Angel have one, Fred and Gunn have another. You're going to have to get the last one. I can't do it," she confessed, the admission nearly as painful as her wound.

"You'll be okay, Faith," he promised her, praying as he spoke that his words were true.

She lifted the corner of her lips in a brief grin. "Of course I will. It takes more than a damn demon to keep me down," she reminded him saucily, trying to pretend that she wasn't in incredible pain.

Taking a deep breath, Wes stood up and left her. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life. He watched as the third remaining demon advanced on him, his face set with determination. He would not fail.

He swung his sword hard, but his aim was off. The blade bit into the Voquila's shoulder, which irritated him but didn't wound him deeply. The armored plates kept him from feeling much of the blade. "You are merely a nuisance to me," he growled at Wes.

"The feeling is mutual," Wes snarled back, pulling his sword and attempting another strike. The demon, enraged, backhanded Wes. 

Wes felt the blow all the way down his spine, leaving him shaken. It was a brief hesitation, but enough for the demon to get the upper hand. The demon grabbed his wrist, twisting upward. Wes grimaced and instinctively dropped the sword his fingers were wrapped around, which the demon picked up, grinning sadistically.

"Looks like your luck has turned, human," the Voquila taunted him. He pushed Wes away from him and reared back a scaly hand, preparing to drive the sword into him.

"No!" 

Wes and the demon both turned in surprise at the feminine shriek. Faith had picked herself up off the ground when she saw what the demon was going to do. She had an arm wrapped around her gaping wound but didn't hesitate as she ran toward the pair.

Grunting, the Voquila thrust his arm forward before the brunette blur could stop him. Wes flinched as he braced for impact, but only felt a thud as a body collided with his. The two tumbled to the floor, Wes seeing stars when his head impacted. He felt the weight lift off of him and then heard a swish, the thick, wet sounds of a blade going through flesh, and the sickening thud of something hitting the floor.

"A sword. Why'd it have to be a goddamn sword? I'm sick of getting skewered!"

Wes opened his eyes to see the most horrifying sight he'd ever encountered. The Voquila that had attacked him lay dead, his head severed by the sword that Faith wielded. The sword dripped with blood; not the black kind that the Voquilas had been oozing since the deadly rampage began, but the thick, crimson red of human blood. His gaze flew to the massive hole in Faith's stomach, seconds before she collapsed to the ground.

"Faith!"

"It's okay, Wes," she whispered, her breathing even more labored. "I'll be fine."

Tears streamed down his face. He loved her even more for her bravery, but they both knew the truth. The Voquila had stabbed her deeply, the wound so severe that even a Slayer could not recover. Blood ran freely from the hole in her stomach and her breathing was ragged.

"I'm sorry," he whispered back, his hand reaching up to caress her hair, cradling her head. "I did what I swore I wouldn't do. I failed."

"No, you didn't," she protested. "I did. If I hadn’t let that demon get me, I would have been at your side helping you fight the last one."

"How like you to protect me, even in death," he said softly, swallowing back his pain.

She smiled tremulously. "I had to do something. I had to make it up to you."

"Make what up?" he asked, bewildered.

Her eyes welled up with tears. "I lied."

"What do you mean?"

"When you told me you loved me. I told you I didn't want it. I lied." She lifted a hand, tracing her fingers tenderly over the stubble on his cheek. "I never said I didn't love you back, Wes."

He realized in that instant what she'd done. It wasn't just a Slayer doing her duty, sacrificing herself to save the innocent. It was a woman protecting the man she loved. Just like…

"You get it now?" she asked, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips. "I thought India was crazy, getting herself killed for a guy. Now it's my turn. You thought she was crazy for letting love get in the way of duty. What do you think now?"

He knelt beside her, scooping her body up and cradling her against his chest. "I understand."

"Good." She closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them. Her gaze searched his face, landing finally on his eyes. "I love you, Wes. Think maybe I always have. Sorry this is how you had to find out."

He laughed through his tears. "Do you think maybe you could have skipped the part where you ran in front of a sword meant for me?"

Her lower lip trembled. "You really think I could have lived if I hadn't?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't think you could have." He paused. "You truly are a hero, Faith. The kind you always wanted to be."

She smiled. "Then I'm dying the way I always wanted to, too." He started to say something, but she held a finger up to his lips to quiet him. "Kiss me?"

"As if I could deny you," he murmured, dipping his head to capture her lips with his. The warmth of skin against skin, flesh against flesh, set both their hearts racing. His gentle touch feathered across her face, his lips skimming over her eyelids and cheeks before settling back on her mouth. She opened her lips to him and he traced his tongue over the gentle curves. Their tongues met softly, gently, lovingly.

And then he tasted the coppery tang of blood.

He pulled back, his heart breaking. Her eyes were old, tired, as they watched him. "I hope I gave you something, Wes. More than I took away."

"You gave me everything," he whispered hoarsely. 

She smiled peacefully, closing her eyes. She coughed, blood bubbling up through the lips that had just caressed his own, and took her last breath.

His heart shattered into a million pieces as he stood up with her in his arms. He turned to see his friends watching him in sorrow. Even Fred looked sad for him. 

Broken, he whispered. "Let's take her home."


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of made Fred the villain in this piece, to an extent. It just worked out that way; I don't hate Fred. Also, all references to India (In-*dee*-uh) Cohen and Christopher "Kit" Bothwell come from the Buffy novelization "The Book of Fours."

"You doing okay?" The quiet question broke into Wes's thoughts. He looked up to see Angel standing in the dusky shadows of the tree overhanging her grave.

"As well as can be expected," was his noncommittal answer.

"We all miss her, Wes," Angel said softly. "We all loved her, too."

"I'm aware of that." He sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes. He could feel a headache forming, but those were commonplace now. "I don't know that I'll ever get over losing her."

"I won't even try to tell you that you will. I'm just here for you. We all are."

"Which I appreciate. But for the moment…"

"You want to be alone."

Wes smiled ruefully. "Actually, I'd much rather not be."

Angel nodded silently. He knew what Wes was really saying. "She's still here, you know. She'll never leave you."

He glanced wistfully at the simple gravestone engraved with her name, date of birth, date of death, and the simple words, 'She saved us. We'll never forget.' "Maybe one day, Angel, I'll feel that's true. Right now, I can't help feeling empty and abandoned."

There was nothing Angel could say. He knew those feelings better than most. "I'm going back inside," he said instead. "Maybe later you'll want to talk?"

He nodded absent-mindedly. "Perhaps."

He wouldn't, but Angel knew that already. He walked away as silently as he'd arrived, leaving Wes alone with his thoughts once more.

"I don't know that I'll ever forgive you, you know," he said softly, staring at the bouquet of fresh tiger lilies he'd placed at the foot of the stone. "I recall Cordelia telling me about Doyle, how he'd sacrificed himself minutes after she finally confessed to having feelings for him. I remember thinking how traumatic that must have been for her. I never knew I would have to endure it myself."

"You ever realize you talk like you have a stick up your ass twenty-four seven? Of course, it's just one of the reasons I love you, but still. You could relax every once in a while," came a bemused voice.

He whirled around, astonished to see Faith perched in one of the low-hanging branches of the tree. "What the devil?" he sputtered disbelievingly.

"You're not hallucinating," she assured him. "I mean, I'm not real, I'm not back to life and all that. But you're not seeing things. I'm just sort of on loan from the Powers. Fulfilling my last request."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, unable to believe he was getting to speak to her again.

"I had to see you one more time," she said softly. "I hated that I told you I loved you and then died in your arms. Didn't seem fair to either one of us, y'know?"

"This isn't fair, either," he said unhappily. "I'll only miss you more once you've gone."

"But I won't have gone anywhere, remember?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "Angel Boy got it right, for once. I'll always be with you."

"Small amount of comfort that it is," he replied bitterly.

"C'mon, Wes," she said, her eyes sad and her voice pleading. "Don't let this define who you are. Don't let me bring you down." She paused. "I never told you, but I read all of Kit Bothwell's diary after you first told me about India. I don't want what happened to him to happen to you. I don't want you to drive yourself crazy with what if's and if I'd only's. Nothing can change what happened, but you're still alive. Don't die with me."

"What happened to the selfish girl I once knew?" he asked fondly.

Faith smiled and shrugged. "She grew up. She followed her heart. She fell in love. And she learned that maybe, just maybe, it's okay to take a leap of faith." She jumped down from the branch and approached him. "That's really why I came back here. I just wanted to let you know you didn't fail. You did it right this time around."

Wes couldn't speak. It seemed she always knew what he needed to hear, the right thing to say. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I'll always love you, Faith."

"I know. I'll always love you, too."

He felt her form begin to dissipate and when he opened his eyes, she was gone. Well, not entirely. He felt her presence around him, and it was enough to help him walk away.

Back to the life she'd made worth living.


End file.
